


Trust Metric

by Saeva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton's Farm, Community: avengerkink, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Maximoff Twin Feels, POV Clint Barton, Parental Clint Barton, Past Child Abuse, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Pietro Needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4216254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeva/pseuds/Saeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton knows what it's like to be afraid of the people who should be protecting you and he hates that some part of Pietro Maximoff is afraid of what he represents. When Pietro pushes himself too hard trying to live up to non-existent standards Clint decides it's time to clear the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Metric

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/20598.html?thread=50951798) at avengerkink. Also, first of hurt/comfort bingo fills, for 'sacrifice'. Involves a lot of Barton Family feels, Maximoff Twin feels, and a combination of the two. Gen, with background Clint/Laura. Unbeta'ed for the time being.

The kid gets shot but he doesn’t die. 

It turns out Pietro Maximoff really is faster than a speeding bullet by a good factor, which makes his ability look a little less ‘well, you got screwed’ in comparison to his sister’s grab bag of gifts, sure, but it’s not quite enough. There’s one bullet too many. It hits worse than it could have but not so bad he dies before they can get him to a Cradle prototype that came before the one that made Vision (which is a name now because, hey, he’s an android, why not?). Wanda loses her shit when her brother’s heart stops (temporarily) and kills Ultron’s main body but good, and somehow Clint ends up with the duty of calming her down (again). When Pietro’s no longer (not) dying he thanks Clint for it, which is mostly awkward, and smarts off. 

The upshot is Kid One’s not dead and Kid Two’s not stable. When Clint checks in for the first time as his paternity leave starts to wrap up, Natasha asks if maybe they can use the extra bedroom from Renovation #8. Normally he’d say no but it’s Tasha. Laura laughs about him being a pushover, he points out _Tikrit_ , and, yeah, he suddenly has five kids instead of three living with him. They really are outnumbered now. 

On the plus side, the twins actually rock at babysitting. Lila thinks the fucking sun shines out of Wanda’s ass inside of three days. Clint gets more sleep and extended paternity leave, on condition he help train the twins in tactics, situational awareness, and modern weaponry. Aside from the fact that Wanda makes the room shake whenever he brings up traditional weapons it’s honestly pretty nice. Except for one thing. 

At first it seems like… nothing, like an overreaction or maybe watching the punk kid who took a bullet for him and a little boy a bit too hard. At first. 

On second glance, Pietro’s a complete smartass, which drives Clint up a damn wall when new baby sleep deprivation combines with one too many bratty remarks (about his age, about whether his teaching methods are outdated, even about his paranoia regarding hiding his family from pretty much everyone). And he’s not proud of it when he snaps. It’s unprofessional, almost as unprofessional as the kid’s running commentary.

Later he feels shame at the way he got up in Pietro’s face, crowding the kid up against a wall, and growled out, “I swear to God, Maximoff, if you make one more childish remark, just one, I’m going to sit you down in the fucking corner for a time-out like I would Lila or Coop. even if I have to duct tape you to that stool myself. Do you get me?” 

To Clint’s surprise, then, the kid didn’t bolt, speeding away before the threat could be made good, or send out some sort of distress call using the odd twin mind-meld thing they’ve got going. Instead Pietro’s voice got quiet, all the attitude leached away, as he asked, “You are going to treat me as a child then, yes? And what is after that--” He jabbed his finger at the time-out stool. “A spanking?” 

It should have sounded disrespectful, scathing, like so much of what came out of his mouth toward anyone but Wanda or the kids did. Instead his voice tightened, the lock of a sound trying not to wobble, and he couldn’t meet Clint’s eyes. 

But Clint had reached the end of his rope and ignored the tone, latching onto the words and not the sound. “Do not tempt me, kid. Just, do not.” 

Pietro made some agreement noise, spat out, “Fine,” and then, “I get, I understand,” and after that… 

After that things get better and they get worse. 

He takes the words to heart, toning down the insolent behavior, listening to the lessons and even applying himself. Wanda, who’s been on-board (minus the weapons) since the beginning, looks both pleased and concerned, which matches Clint’s outlook entirely. Pietro stops mouthing off disruptively, saving his commentary for when it won’t interrupt Clint or Laura’s instructions. Pietro stops ignoring directions to prove… something; that he can, maybe, or that he knows better, or sometimes simple jealousy over Wanda’s time. He falls in line, showing that if he keeps applying himself like this he’ll be a damn fine addition to the team in no time, just like his sister. 

And the twitch between Clint’s shoulders grows, spreads, into this constant reminding ache of ‘somethingwrongsomethingwrongsomethingwrong’. He knows this song and dance, he lived it once before, except that then he’d been Pietro and Trickshot… 

Except Clint never once touches the kid to hurt him in a way that isn’t necessary for training him how to fight, how to maintain body discipline, how to minimize effort so that the kid, this crazy fast kid, can use his speed as efficiently as possible. The threat… It was ridiculous. A burst of stupidity from sleep deprivation and frustration that meant nothing (should have meant nothing). Pietro’s a teenager, sure, for another two months, but he’s an adult and that means he’s past the reach of time-outs or spankings or… anything. The worst Clint would actually do is tell Steve Pietro’s not ready while Wanda is, which would be punishment for the both of them, the way they’re attached to each other. They even really do share the guest room with the en-suite bathroom. 

Clint never once touches the kid. Pietro still does something distracting anytime Wanda falls short of a goal or misses a mark in training. He gets rude when Wanda shakes the room _again_ at the suggestion she learn to shoot, drawing Clint’s attention away from her. It’s a pattern that might as well say ‘hit me, not her, I’m the bad one’ that makes Clint seriously wonder if whoever bombed Sokovia’s capital city didn’t do the young Maximoff twins a favor, in a way. Or maybe that bomb added injury to insult by leaving them as orphans without a protector in a country that doesn’t have much of a children’s services system. 

Clint never once touches the kid but he can’t get the feeling of rot off himself as Pietro behaves better and better (so long as Wanda doesn’t ‘need’ a protector). He starts making dinner every night (he can really cook and Laura’s so grateful it just sticks). He starts offering to watch Cooper and Lila whenever he isn’t training. He trains harder and longer than he should, going back to the staging area and obstacle course set up after he’s finished his chores each night. He calls Clint ‘sir’ and when asked about it Pietro answers that with, “Captain America gave me book for S.H.I.E.L.D.. What S.H.I.E.L.D. is meant to be, he said. You are my SO, Supervisory Officer, yes, and that means I show you respect. It says so.” 

And the hell of it is that the book does, Clint knows that thing backwards and forwards, and Pietro’s being… He’s being a _good boy_ and it makes Clint’s stomach clench in dread every time he sees it. But he has no idea how to bring it up because he’s been there, he has; he knows to his bones that Pietro will not believe a simple, ‘I will never hit you for misbehaving,’ statement. 

It finally comes to a head when Pietro pushes himself too hard, training too much, too long, and literally collapses in exhaustion. Clint heads over to him, to help, he wants to help this kid that reminds him of himself so much sometimes, smart mouth and all, and that’s it. 

Pietro winces, trying to push himself up off the ground as he gasps, “Sorry, sorry, I get up. I didn’t -- I do better next time,” and when Clint reaches a hand down to help Pietro stand the kid _flinches_. “Sorry, sir.” 

It feels like a body blow but Clint keeps moving -- he’s been injured before and you just keep moving -- until he’s helped the kid up, dusting him off a little bit because this is an outside course. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, kid.” 

“I will do better,” Pietro vows. 

He’ll try, beating his body to hell until he manages it, Clint knows that, and that makes it worse. “I know you will. You’re doing a great job, Pietro, you really are, and you’ve improved so much physically since you got here that everyone’s going to be wowed back at Avengers HQ.” The look he gets is so confused, if only for a split second before it shuts down, that he wants to punch something. “I think maybe you two are ready to head back there, train with the whole team now.” 

“Wanda is not ready. She still cannot stand the idea of weapons in her hand, though her hands are weapons alone. Because we train together you have not taught me those much either,” Pietro points out reasonably. 

“I’m not the only shooter on the team. Nat’s great with guns. And both Steve, Sam, and Rhodey are all military, or ex-military. They can teach you to shoot.” 

His back tenses. “I can do better. I -- Please, I will take punishment now and you will not send us away? Please, sir?” 

Fuck punching something, Clint wants someone to shoot. “You’re afraid of me, kid. I -- I shouldn’t have threatened you. It was unprofessional and stupid. You’re a kid in comparison to an old man like me but you’re still an adult. I’m not going to put you in a time-out or spank you. Hell, Laura and I don’t believe in hitting as discipline. We talked about it once and I told her that if I ever saw her hit one of the kids, even once, even as a spanking, that was it. I’d be taking the kids -- well, just the one then, she was pregnant with Coop -- and leaving; that I’d call whatever favors in I had to to get full custody too. You can ask her.” 

Pietro bites his lip, looking a decade younger than he really is, an echo of what he must have looked like before the bomb that blew up his world, “Why?” 

“I was raised, if you want to call it that, by my mentor, the one that taught me to shoot. He was always careful not to do anything that’d scar, leave a mark that could be photographed by the cops and identify me later. But there were whole days, even a week at a time, where I didn’t say anything but ‘yes, sir’.” Clint swallows hard, watching the skyline behind the kid’s left shoulder. “I ran. Eventually. And I killed him. Later. No one protected me.” He shakes his head but you can’t shake memories out. “So I promised myself that if I ever saw it happening I’d be the protector I didn’t have.” He looks at Pietro now, whose blue eyes are a bit wide and almost angry, like he knows, he knows he’s being fucked with because something like this cannot be true. “I know you’ve got no reason to believe me, that the only way I can prove it is time. 

“All I can tell you, Pietro, is I’m not going to hurt you, or your sister, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you so long as you’re under my care. You’re my responsibility, that makes you mine to take care of and protect. Simple as that. And if you tell me who taught you that failure means violence and they’re still alive I’d be happy to rectify that situation.” 

“You are--” Pietro shakes his head but he can’t finish the sentence, which is probably an accusation about lying, because he knows, knows, that’ll get him smacked too. “ _Why?_ ”

“Because no one gets to hurt the people I care about and I’m not exempt from that rule,” Clint tells him, voice solid and his tone like steel. “You, you and your sister, found your way in… I’m pretty sure if you were under eighteen Laura would have already brought up the idea of adopting you two. It sucks that it took you this long to find a family beyond your sister but you have found one. Here. And with the team, maybe, if you want that.” At least some of the team -- Steve and Sam mostly, but maybe Nat too -- will be up for that ‘your team, your unit, is your family’ idea, he’s sure. “That’s the best answer I’ve got.” 

Pietro rolls his lip between his teeth for a few long beats. “You would really kill someone because they have hurt my sister and I?” 

“I’ve killed people for a lot less than being child-abusing bastards toward kids I care about. Being an Avenger, they white-washed my background. Nat’s too. The stuff in the files that got released to the public when S.H.I.E.L.D. went kaput is nothing.” 

He frowns. “You are archer… no, sniper. Like soldier, a type of soldier.” 

“No, a type of assassin. It wasn’t the only thing I did for S.H.I.E.L.D. but it’s why they recruited me. I was younger than you are now when I joined up. I took the offer from Nick -- Nick Fury -- because he agreed to get Laura, my best friend back then, away from Trickshot, the man who trained me. I hadn’t been able to take her with me when I ran. I went on the extraction team and that’s when I killed him, for hurting me, her, and a lot of others.” 

“Oh, so like Wanda is for me.” His frown turns thoughtful (Clint, meanwhile, tries not to think too hard about the twins sharing a room now). “My sister… She is bossy but fragile. She has always been this way. If I was loud then they would see me and not her.” 

“You protected her like a good big brother is supposed to do,” Clint agrees, gently dropping his hand onto Pietro’s shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. “You’re good, kid. You’ve been great for Laura and me. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ and make yourself as useful as possible to have a place here, okay? I might ask you to stow the attitude sometimes and I’ll expect you to listen to me if I do. Wanda’s safe. You don’t have to be loud here to protect her. We’ll protect her together. And she’s getting pretty good at protecting herself, don’t you think?” 

He smiles wanly. “She is.” Then he goes back to thinking, not as tense anymore and not shaking the hand off his shoulder, and bites his plush bottom lip hard enough it bleeds. “I cannot -- But I will try. For Wanda. She likes it here.” 

Clint smiles. “I’m glad she does. You’re right about the weapons though. She may never be willing to use them and she’s got weapons in those ‘hexes’ of hers. You and I will do more one-on-one training so you can learn how to shoot and then how to shoot in superspeed. How’s that sound?” 

“Good, sir.” For once the word doesn’t sound tense or afraid. Pietro turns his head, staring toward the skyline where the sun’s mostly set and turned the sky half red and half indigo. Clint forces himself not to tense, wondering if the kid’s going to try testing his resolve already. “I was -- We had a pet, a cat, before we were alone. Would it be…” 

He doesn’t wait for Pietro to finish gathering his nerve. “You want to go to the local shelter and pick out a cat to adopt?” 

“Wanda… She talks of getting one when we are safe to stay somewhere.” 

And Clint told him they’re safe here, which they are. It makes sense. “I have to run it past Laura but we’ve been talking about getting the kids a pet to teach them responsibility, now that Coop’s old enough to reliably remember to feed one. It’d be the same rules as with them: if you adopt a pet you will take care of that cat. Laura and I won’t stand for anything else.” 

Pietro nods. “We will.” 

“Okay, then. I’ll ask Laura and if she’s okay with it then this weekend we’ll all go, as a family, and pick out a couple of cats to adopt.”

“Okay.” His stomach rumbles and Clint chuckles a bit. 

“You need to go get cleaned up. I’ll make you a smoothie, one I use to refuel after a long workout or during a hard mission, while you do that.” 

“I can--” 

“No arguing. And no working yourself this hard again. I don’t want to see you collapse like that; it means you’re hurt and I failed you. So, go, get cleaned up, Pietro. We’ll talk about your limits after your shower and snack. Just talk.” 

“Talk.” Pietro takes a deep breath and repeats, “Talk. Okay.” 

“Go on.” He does and Clint takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The sensation of someone else nearby makes him tense but then he sees little miss witch ease out of shadows that shrink in size as soon as she’s clear of them. “Hey, Red.” 

“Thank you. For my brother. He… It has been difficult for him.” 

“For you both. You know I meant everything I told him, right?” he asks as she walks up to him, close enough she could reach out and touch him.

She smiles. “Yes, I know that. He is right, I like it here.” Her head cocks. “I want a kitten.” 

Clint snorts. “Sure, kid, whatever you want. Lets go make that smoothie for your brother. I’ll show you what I put in it, for when the two of you are ready to do some missions on your own.” 

Wanda takes his hand and squeezes before tugging him toward the house. Being outnumbered isn’t so bad, really. He always wanted a big family.


End file.
